Listen up...

A recent humiliation at the hands of my delightful two-year-old granddaughter proved that the old chestnut 'Out of the mouths of babes', while a tad hackneyed, has more than a dash of truth. 

The occasion was a ballet lesson, held in the family playroom. Little Lily was the teacher and the long-suffering spouse and I were, in her words, the 'learners'. Now my husband has many talents, not least his legendary nifty ankle-work around the tennis court, but dancing is not listed among them. Suffice it to say that his terpsichorean endeavours make Judy Murray's recent antics on BBC One's 'Strictly Come Dancing' look like Ginger in her heydey. I, on the other hand, sweated my way through eight years of ballet classes in my youth and, while I was no Margot Fonteyn, I managed to avoid the annual cull come exam time. So in the case of this particular dance class, I felt confident that any accolades that might be dished out by the diminutive dance teacher would be coming my way. 

My fellow student and I duly lined up, facing our instructor, while she selected the pre-recorded song of her choice on her Dora the Explorer musical book. At the first tinkling notes of 'Row, row, row your boat' she fixed us with a gimlet eye and indicated that we should copy her movements. Manfully maintaining straight faces, we bent our creaking knees in grand pliés, wrists cocked at precisely ninety degrees, palms facing down and fingers turned inwards - just like our teacher. She nodded her approval gravely before selecting another tune. At this stage my competitive spirit broke loose and I confess I interpreted the teacher's choreography somewhat freely, adding a few (in my opinion) nicely-executed twirls and ending in a charming pose. Consider, then, my mortification when the tiny tyrant stomped over to her grandfather and announced - with a ferocious scowl in my direction - "You get a sticker, Buppy, because you listened!"

After enduring the spouse's triumphant crowing with heroic restraint, I fell to thinking (and no, I was not sulking, as was suggested by certain ill-favoured family members!)...

I failed to get a sticker - it was a lovely gold star, too - because I failed to listen. I heard what Lily said but I did not heed her words because I had my own agenda which I decided was more important - in this case, showing off to try to win points over the spouse. (In my defence, there are mitigating circumstances: he has, as I have previously mentioned, numerous talents and while my mother-in-law assures me that I have 'other talents' (although not cooking), she has yet to be brought to enumerate even one. Just saying...)

So often the misunderstandings that mar our relationships, both at home and at work, are the result of failing to heed the words we hear...of just plain not listening.

My goal for 2015 is to listen better - not just with my ears attuned to the spoken words but with my eyes and emotions alert to what is unsaid as well. Of course this will require me to climb down from my perch at the top of the priority pole, which could well be the toughest task of all.

But then, what is life without a challenge?